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The Motor Boat Club off Long Island: or, A Daring Marine Game at Racing Speed
The Motor Boat Club off Long Island; or, A Daring Marine Game at Racing Speed
CHAPTER I
A BREATHLESS MOMENT IN THE FOG
CLA-A-ANG! Cla-a-ang!
The “Rocket,” a sixty-foot motor cruiser, her engine slowed down to ten miles an hour, had just moved out of comparatively clear water into a thickish bank of fog. The bell, probably on board a sailing craft, had just been heard for the first time off the starboard bow of the cruiser, and close at hand.
Joe Dawson, forward lookout on the “Rocket,” leaned ahead, framing his mouth with his hands as he shouted:
“Ahoy, there! Keep to your own port, captain!”
Cla-a-ang! Cla-a-ang!
The sound of the bell was appallingly nearer, now, seemingly almost upon the motor boat.
Captain Tom Halstead, at the “Rocket’s” wheel, abaft of midship, sounded a shrill warning from his craft’s auto whistle.
Too-oot!
At the same time Halstead threw his own wheel over to go to port of the bell-ringing stranger.
It was a fog that seemed to grow denser with every foot of headway. The water at the hull alongside was barely visible.